n o w p l a y i n g - s c r i p t b i n - f a n c l u b - s t u d i o

make love to the camera



October 1, 2001 - 10:57 am

Shoes, Garlic, And Wacky Nude Neighbors

My girlfriend, like many women, has a thing for shoes. There is a hardcore, sweaty romp of hot shoe love taking place in her apartment. I always knew she liked footwear, but I never knew the true extent until late last night.

We were at her place. I was relaxing in the living room, letting my Sunday night dwindle away as she was in her room cleaning her closet. Sally suddenly informed me that there was a surprise in the bedroom. To my mind, surprises in the bedroom are generally a positive thing, unless, of course, they entail a Swedish man I've never met and a jar of vaseline. Secure in the knowledge that she at no point during the evening had the opportunity to smuggle a Swedish man past me, I blithely entered the room, heart and pants aflutter, only to be confronted with a sight that leaves me shocked to this day:

38 pairs of shoes. 38. Neatly arranged in rows, lined up before me like little soldiers in the battle for foot comfort.

I think I own five pairs of shoes. One pair of Vans, one pair of running shoes (which, at one point last year, substituted for everyday wear during a brief shoe crisis, as Colleen was far too fond of making fun of me for), one pair of combat boots, one pair of fancy dress shoes, and one pair of dress shoes I don't mind allowing to be beaten up. I can't imagine my shoe needs ever takng me into the double digit arena, and here my girlfriend's personal stash is healthily over three dozen.

She defended herself by saying that one of those pairs were actually slippers. I allowed it. I was then informed that it was my mission to help her weed out the unnecessary shoes.

Every man's dream.

I managed to avoid this task until she had it narrowed down to a few choices. I then went back to the room, and had a discussion which involved the pros and cons of each of these questionable shoes. I managed to convince her to donate away ten of them.

Try to tell me I'm a bad boyfriend. I dare you. I discussed shoes. Earnestly. And with vigor.

Afterwards, Sally realized she was lacking a pair of shoes for a particular situation. I love this girl.

Yeah, so I've been pretty bad about updating lately. I have been busy with Stuff, and yesterday, Hell froze over when I didn't turn on my computer even once. There was a story about it in the paper this morning.

I had my last day of work at the hospital Saturday. The Baby who was supposed to work with me didn't even show up, leaving me to minister to the ill all alone. It ended up meaning that I got most of the Donut Holes, so it worked out. I may try to get a new job in the computer lab at school. Seven bucks an hour to send IM's, read diaryland, and tell the occasional shlub to restart his computer when it crashes? Yeah, I can do that.

I have that television writing class tonight for the show that the school produces. I am assured that the new cast is "sexy." I am therefore going to add many gratuitous nude scenes as well as a role for myself as the wacky nude neighbor. Oh, and I hear that we are going to start 'webcasting' this show, so get ready to do some clicking when I give the go ahead. If my ass looks all blurry and pixelated, it's because it always looks that way, and it isn't Quicktime's fault.

I need to go shave and shower so I look and smell presentable for my daily dose of academia. I'm looking uncharacteristically grizzly.

Oh, and Jonny: I'll eat nearly anything on my pizza. I really, really, really love garlic as a topping, but people are, for some reason, reluctant to join me on that. Bastards.

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